The Battle of the Band
by Radi Berra
Summary: The literal interpretation of Battle of the Band. A group of band kids get into an all out war during marching practice at band camp. Contains violence, and flying reeds. It's cool, read it.


_Okay, I got bored... No I'm not in band, but I really want to be, I have many friends IN band, therefore I know a thing or two about it, and as soon as I get enough money together, I'm taking private lessons. Now I just hafta think of an instrument to play... Any ideas?_

_This is a one-shot with original people. Well, some. Some of them are people I know. Reviews welcome, don't piss me off or I may just hafta grab the nearest piccolo and blast a high C in your eardrums... :)_

_**The Battle of the Band**_

It was a beautiful day at band camp. The birds were chirping, the band kids were happily playing a cheerful tune as their happy drum major told them all how wonderful they were, and nothing could make the day worse.

Come now, did you think I was serious?

It was pouring down rain, rain so thick that the unfortunate tubas started choking on water that got caught in their bells, there was so much confusion ensuing as several confused band kids (who were playing a rather depressing tune) misinterpreted the drum major's command to march in a straight line and ended up attempting a quick change of direction while keeping their bodies at straight as they could get them, causing several pulled back muscles despite the strenuous stretches that their drum major had forced them to do, oh and speaking of drum majors, this one was screaming rude insults at them and yelled that they were going to suck at contest because they sucked right then.

All in all, it was not a pretty picture.

When the band director Mr. Forte (haha, I made a funny) finally decided that nobody was listening, he gave them all an hour to clean up their instruments, fix any broken reeds that might have gotten in their present state due to the random crashing that had been going on during their so-called "marching," and dry themselves up (he was more worried about the first two more than the third).

"Oh man..." Katie, a tuba, muttered, choking out the water that she had swallowed. "I hope it stops raining soon..."

"Try waving an already-heavy colorguard flag around when it weighs five extra pounds because of the rain," an angry colorguard, Madyline, snapped.

"I LOVE band!" a happy bass clarinetist who was named Chelsea said, well, happily, oblivious to the sullen and wet people around her, as she polished her bass and examined the reed closely.

"We know YOU do, Chelsea," Leigh, another bass clarinetist, said grumpily. "I think I busted my back on that last 'change directions'..."

"Is that what John said?" Katie wondered, referring to the drum major. "I thought he said 'YOU MARCH LIKE PENGUINS!' or something."

"Yeah, that's what I thought he said," Matt, a member of drumline, said. "But it's not my fault. I was afraid of stepping on people."

Garret, a trumpet, sighed. "I SOOO do not want to march anymore today..."

"I do!" Chelsea said brightly.

"Sometimes you sicken me, Chelsea..." Madyline muttered.

"Ready to MARCH now, band?" John said brightly, holding an umbrella and walking into the band room.

"Not really," trombonist Trevor said.

"Yup!" a happy Chelsea declared.

"Great!" John said brightly. "Back out there, then!"

Everyone except Chelsea groaned and walked out into the rain again.

It was raining even harder than it had been before. Added to that, there was lightning.

"Great!" Madyline yelled, though the wind and thunder drowned out her voice to anyone not standing three feet from her. "I'm a giant lightning rod with this pole!"

Katie spat out another mouthful of rain in response.

That was when it began.

The literal meaning of the "battle of the band."

Blinded by the rain, Madyline swung her colorguard flag, and knocked Matt down.

The other drumline members got offended, thinking that the colorguards were trying to steal their glory, and started hitting the colorguards with their drumsticks.

In the process, Leigh took a hit to the back of the head by a colorguard pole. Turning around, she discovered that the drumline members had taken the flags from the colorguard and were attempting to beat the fallen colorguard members to death with the poles. It had been a drumline that hit her.

So Leigh and the other bass clarinetists started bashing the drumline with their basses (Chelsea only doing it because her fellow bass clarinetists seemed to be having fun), and an innocent regular clarinetist got in the way, causing the clarinetists to get angry, so they lunged at the basses and tried to gouge out their eyeballs with the mouthpieces, and in the middle of that, some spare reeds flew out of coat pockets and hit the trumpets, who got angry and took it out on the tubas, who got mad aaaannnd... ('Pause while author takes big breath')... just trampled anyone in sight.

Shortly thereafter, every member of the band was engaged in this civil band war.

Trying to calm things out, John leapt into the fray, and was injured, not to anyone's disappointment.

Things were getting out of hand, and fast.

Mr. Forte thought quickly. 'What did maestro say to do in this situation?' he thought frantically. 'Grab nearest potential weapon, walk to table... no wait, that was what to do if the judges at contest gave my band a two... oh crap, what was it...'

He didn't have much more opportunity to think, because just then, a reed flew out of someone's instrument and hit him in the forehead, thus knocking him unconscious.

The band stopped fighting.

There was blood belonging to various people splattered all over the marching field, reeds lay broken on the ground, John lay broken on the ground, and their director was lying, unmoving, on his back.

Slowly, the band walked over John, and approached their beloved director.

"Is he dead?" Matt asked finally.

Chelsea cautiously poked him with her bass.

"I don't think so. Anybody know CPR?" she asked.

The band exchanged awkward looks.

"No? Okay, then... let's all watch our director die."

They stared at him.

"Remember last year after we got a two at contest?" Garret said finally. "The newspaper article about it?"

Leigh nodded. "The one that described the sudden murder of the band competition judges who were found beat to death in their own homes with drumsticks up their noses?"

There was much assent among the band kids.

"Mr. Forte claimed no responsibility for the incident," Katie said, shaking her head. "But I found the receipt from the assassin he hired to do the job."

"Shh, remember, that's a band secret," Madyline reminded her.

Another pause as they stared at their director.

"Wanna take him inside?" Matt asked, glancing up.

There was more assent, and Mr. Forte was gently carried up to the sacred band room.

Nobody really cared much about John, truthfully.

The band students mourned their fallen director, gently placing his limp body in the middle of the playing room, a sheet draping his body and a reed in his hand.

After about an hour, the band room door burst open, and a wet, angry, cold, and muddy John limped into the room.

"WHO STARTED IT!" he yelled.

Many side glances.

"IT WAS _YOU_, WASN'T IT?" he yelled, glaring at Chelsea.

Chelsea grinned. "It sure was."

John lunged at her, but this time, Katie bashed him over the head with her tuba.

"Aww, man!" she complained, looking at the dent. "This is gonna cost a buttload to fix..."

Suddenly:

Mr. Forte sat up groggily, the sheet falling. "Ow, my head... What happened?"

He stared at the band students all clutching their instruments.

"The last thing I remember was the judge's smirk as he announced that we got a two..." Mr. Forte muttered. "How'd I get here? And who are you?" he added, staring at the freshmen. "And what's this...?" He glanced at the reed in his hand with confusion.

The older students exchanged weird glances.

"Uh, Mr. Forte," Leigh said. "We sort of- got into a fight, and you were knocked unconscious by Cassandra's reed."

"It was NOT my reed," Cassandra interjected snippishly. "THAT reed belonged to Melany."

"WHAT!" Melany shrieked. "THAT REED WAS HEIDI'S REED!"

"Here we go again," Leigh muttered, as the band engaged once more in battle as a confused Mr. Forte sat there, staring.

"THIS is my reed!" Heidi yelled. "And to prove it, I'll gouge out your eyeballs with it!"

Leigh sighed. Oh well. Tomorrow would be better.

Maybe.

Because today was just another day at band camp.

_**End**_

_I hope that I did a good job... It's difficult to write a band fic when you're not in band... did I do a good job? I hope so. Please tell me if I screwed up anywhere. I'd like to know. And yes, I am a HUGE fan of my beloved Yukon High School's band.I should be in band, but noo... mom doesn't want me to, because it's all this extra expense she has to deal with... "No honey! You'd fare better in Gym class!"_

_NO._

_Gym class was the worst experience in my life! I heard stories I didn't want to hear, saw thing I REALLY didn't want to see, and was called names such as Mighty Mouse._

_And Kevin Lewis: I WILL hunt you down for calling me that._

_Sorry 'bout that. Please review!_


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